I arose early Wednesday morning to visit the bank. I was getting to like this having the car keys thing.

Our show, a Hybrid, went decently. It was our first show without Michael there, and it was thankfully uneventful.

As driver, I decided to educate myself about restaurant options in the area. It should be noted that eating on this journey was a challenge, since our moderator has a laundry list of food allergies. Truthfully, we could eat pretty much anywhere, but many places are easier for her than others. After ruling out Mexican (our female actor has little tolerance for spicy foods, and was feeling adversely affected from our previous Mexican meal) as well as some other unfavorable options, I came across a restaurant called Boudreaux’s Louisiana Seafood. I thought it sounded great, but I was willing to bet that no one else would want to go. I was wrong on both counts.

That night, we all drove downtown and found Boudreaux’s, which displayed a large Tyvek banner reading, “Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler!” I couldn’t help but grin as we were greeted by a host wearing an LSU baseball cap. The walls were bedecked in Mardi Gras and LSU artifacts, and I hoped that the food would be authentic.

I wanted the entire menu. When our waitress was taking our drink orders, I asked if they had any Abita beer. The waitress said they didn’t. I glanced at the taps, one of which had a big fleur de lis on it. I asked her, “What’s the one with the fleur de lis on it?”

“The what?” she replied.

“The fleur de lis,” I said, “uh…the thing with…like the Saints have” and as I was trying to figure out how to explain, Sam looked at the taps and informed me that it was Bud Light. “Oh,” I said. Well, just give me a water, I guess.”

Sam and I decided to split an appetizer called “bar trash,” which was apparently seared shrimp, crawfish, crab meat, and oysters (maybe?) in a spicy seasoning. It was okay. I looked at the taps again, and this time, I thought one of them said “Turbodog.” I got up and walked to the bar, and sure enough, they had Turbodog (an Abita beer). I ordered one. It was good.

The crawfish etouffee I ordered had a distinct and unmistakable piss smell/flavor. We were already a pain-in-the-ass table, so I was hesitant to return it, but there was no way I was going to eat that. I explained it to the waitress, and she was only mildly defensive. Bethany interjected that I was from New Orleans, to which the waitress replied that so is the guy who runs the place (duh). I told her that I’m sure they make good etouffee, but this particular bowl was rank. I ended up eating excellent red beans & rice instead. Sam got a catfish po-boy, which he liked, and seafood gumbo, which he said tasted like the roux was burnt. All in all, it wasn’t great, but it could’ve been worse.

That night, Amber and I went down to the hot tub in the Stoney Creek Inn’s impressive pool complex. Just as I was about to head back to my room, the staff came in and told everyone to leave. There was a thunderstorm with lots of lightning, so they were closing the pool area. Pretty exciting.

More Discovery Channel, then sleep. Next stop: Canton, Missouri.